


Vacation

by infandomswetrust



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Airplanes, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, Smut, Summer Fic, Tags May Change, Teasing, Vacation, let's just see where this goes, mainly because I'm flying to Marbella next week, maybe airplane sex I dunno
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-06 09:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1853383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infandomswetrust/pseuds/infandomswetrust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Hannibal meet on an airplane.</p><p>Alternative to season 1</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Last Call

**Author's Note:**

> I CAN'T BELIEVE I STARTED ANOTHER FICTION can someone please punch my mind in the face?!? It keeps dumping plot bunnies and I can barely cope with writing
> 
> Also it's 4am and I haven't exactly slept since Tuesday and I have no beta so probably tons of mistakes sorry

Will hurried through the airport. His plane was going to leave in three minutes but his dogs hadn’t cared much about that when Buster stormed out once again and Winston, being daddy’s good boy, ran after him to propel him back. Instead they had both ended up in a puddle, fresh and muddy after a rainy November-night. When Alana came, they had been covered in sludge and Will had ruined his shirt during the attempt to wash them. A shower had been _necessary,_ and by the time Will had left Wolf Trap he should have already been at the airport.

Now he was running, his hair still slightly moist and unruly as ever. He cursed Alana and Beverly for having persuaded him into doing this.

_You’re under too much pressure._

_You need a break._

_Take some time off._

_Get out of the country._

Breathless, Will arrived at terminal 5. A young brunette stewardess smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, sir, there’s been a delay,” she reassured him and checked his ticket and passport. A bit curious she read through the extra piece of paper he handed her and glanced up at him.

“Special license to carry a firearm,” she said. “Are you FBI?”

“Something like that,” Will muttered and shifted on his feet. She smiled again and handed the paper back to him. She definitely smiled too much. Maybe she was deflecting. Maybe she hated her job. Maybe she was about to get fired. Was she sleeping with the pilot?

>Last call to all passengers of flight 730 B to Malaga. Please proceed to boarding<

Will woke from his reverie and quickly started walking, glancing at the stewardess who was definitely sleeping with the pilot one last time.

Malaga, Spain. It had been Beverly’s idea. She had read about the first lady visiting Marbella and insisted that _if_ Will was going to go on vacation he _had_ to go there. The thing was, Will didn’t do vacations. Usually. Usually Will also didn’t work with the FBI and shot cannibals. Usually Will didn’t find out he had a serious inflammation of the brain. When he went to the hospital after Garett Jacob Hobbs had attacked him, he had had a seizure there and they found out about his encephalitis. Beverly had guilt-tripped Jack until he forced Will to take some time off. So here he was.

With a sigh he walked towards the plane. He hated flying. Too many people, too little space. Hence he had bought a first class ticket, even if it wasn’t really in his budget. Another stewardess greeted him at the entrance. She was older than the brunette and her smile was bitter and didn’t quite reach her eyes. She nodded at him in an almost robotic movement and reached for his ticket to show him his seat. With a frown Will realized that the cabins were indeed first class and large, but also _double cabins._ Double. Meaning he would have to share it with someone else. Meaning he would have to sit through a ten hour flight with a stranger. He slowed down and his steps got more reluctant as the stewardess led him towards his seat. He was actually playing with the thought of turning around and blowing the whole thing off when she stopped and motioned towards a cabin. Will pursed his lips and quickly took his seat without deigning a look at the other person. The young man waited until the stewardess was gone and sat completely still for about ten minutes, feeling _watched_ until he shifted a bit and glanced up at his opposite. The first thing he saw, when he looked up a little too quickly, were fiery maroon eyes, seeming to be incredibly cold and calm though somehow on fire at the same time. Will quickly averted his eyes and stared out of the window instead. Another five minutes passed and the pilot began speaking. Will was glad that the heavy, uncomfortable silence was momentarily filled and threw a look around. His eyes caught the stewardess that had showed him his seat and he watched how she told the younger brunette stewardess off for apparently having done something wrong. The sound of someone clearing his throat tore Will’s attention, which was currently roaming through the plane freely, back to the cabin. The young man looked up, careful to avoid the strange eyes and stared at a nose questioningly instead. Broad, thin lips with a ridiculously perfect curve began moving.

“Since we are going to attend a ten hour flight together it might be an asset to inquire a bit of information about each other.”

European. German? Dutch? A smile, reassuring and sincere but also not sincere. A worn-out smile, often used to calm people. A hand was extended. Calloused, strong; someone who worked with his hands. Was that a scar? No trace of a wedding ring. Will stopped his thoughts when he realized he was supposed to react somehow. Hesitantly he reached out and shook the hand.

“Dr. Hannibal Lecter,” the man said.

Doctor. Surgeon? But surgeons don’t interact with their patients all that much while they’re lucid. Why the smile? Will’s eyes roamed over a pretentious suit. Wealthy. No one needed to wear a suit like that in an airplane. Show-off. A quick glance at the man’s face, finally really looking at him. Angular. Distinctive cheekbones. Short, ashen blond hair. The same reassuring smile as before. Calming, patient, observant…. Ah. Psychiatrist.

“Will Graham,” Will said and finally let go of the man’s hand. The young man stared out of the window again, but felt the maroon eyes resting on him. Will shifted on his seat uncomfortably.

“If I may ask, what brings you to Malaga, Mr. Graham?”

Will frowned and looked back at the man.

“Marbella, actually. And please call me Will.”

The psychiatrist’s smile turned into something less worn-out, something more genuine. Suddenly the young brunette stewardess was standing next to the cabin.

“Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea?” she asked with a smile.

Will had to stop himself from asking for a glass of whiskey; it was only 12a.m. after all.

“Coffee please,” he said instead. “No milk, no sugar.”

She handed him a small cup and turned to Dr. Lecter who ordered grape juice. Fucking grape juice. Someone who doesn’t just eat or drink anything. Add the suit and the first class flight. Someone with high standards. High social status.

Will took a hasty gulp from his coffee, despite it being decidedly too hot and turned his attention to the window again.

“You never answered my question, Will. Why Marbella?”

Will sighed and took another gulp from his coffee, a bit slower this time. He grimaced.

“Mostly because of Michelle Obama and the Minnesota Shrike.”

The doctor’s face remained stoic. Of course it did. Psychiatrist. Used to the crazy.

“A cryptic answer,” the man said. “I’m afraid I must ask you to explain.”

“You must be used to cryptic answers,” Will muttered. Dr. Lecter’s face didn’t change, but something in his eyes did. Interest flashed up. Curiosity. Understanding.

“I wasn’t aware my profession seems to be this obvious.”

“It’s not.”

“A special gift then. You are very observant,” the man mused. “And you carry a gun,” he added, his eyes flickering to the license Will had placed next to his seat. “Yet you seem to lack confidence to use it. You don’t carry it on you. I presume it is in your suitcase. That has me wondering, why did you take it with you if you apparently long to avoid it?”

Will gaped at the man for a moment and narrowed his eyes.

“Dr. Lecter, if you wish for this flight to be pleasant, I suggest you don’t psychoanalyze me. You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalyzed.”

“Are you certain about that, or are you reflecting your own opinion of yourself onto me?”

Will frowned and glared at the doctor. He was pretty sure he couldn’t have asked for a worse person to share his cabin with.

“My opinion of myself is none of your business,” Will snapped and turned his upper body to the side, away from Dr. Lecter, signalizing their conversation was over.

This was going to be a long flight….

 

 


	2. Incrementalism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. That took a while. I'm kind of always busy these days and only really get to write at night. So btw, this chapter was written at 4am and since I don't have a beta forgive any mistakes.

Hannibal let his gaze wander through the airplane. Nothing of interest, dull people most of whom he immediately dismissed as unworthy of his attention. His attention was required by unworthy people often enough in his field of work, and the last thing he would want was to have the same unpleasantry during his trip to Europe. Hannibal owned a beach mansion in Marbella, which had regrettably been quite neglected these past years. Now he had decided to fly to the beautiful city to allow himself a break from strenuous patients and discourteous tabloid reporters. When the pilot spoke of a delay, the doctor was mildly annoyed. His preferred airline didn’t offer a direct flight to Malaga and this was hardly bearable. The stewardesses were either rude or intrusive and the first class had _double_ cabins. Hannibal liked socializing, he was fascinated by human minds and their extreme variations, but he had hoped to spend the flight in peace. The majority of the people one could expect to find in first class were the arrogant and the rich, stressed businessmen or not to forget, the occasional overexcited ‘one-and-only-treat’ passenger.

Absolutely nothing of interest and he was already starting to feel relieved when the seat opposite remained empty. Then the pilot announced the delay and mere minutes later, a rather rude stewardess led a young man to his cabin. The first thing Hannibal noticed was that the other man frantically avoided noticing him. If he wouldn’t have been so intrigued, he would have been glad that the behavior of his opposite seemed to promise a quiet flight, but there was something about him that drew Hannibal in. The way those blue eyes stared out of the window, unseeing of anything that was going on in the plane and yet clearly anything but oblivious to it; the way silky, damp chocolate curls fell into thick-lashed eyes, shielding the young man’s features like a mask and at the same time highlighting them like a frame. A shockingly large amount of time passed until Hannibal realized that the lack of punctuality as much as the deliberate oblivion spoke of rudeness. Even more shockingly, the usual reaction such behavior would trigger was replaced by curiosity. When the man finally acknowledged him and briefly met his eyes, Hannibal felt something else being triggered. A challenge. They started talking and the resistance, the restraint and the reluctance were so deliciously obvious in the young man’s eyes, in his manner of speaking, his body language… A pristine shell just waiting to be broken to reveal a pearl. With every word they exchanged, Hannibal’s curiosity grew, but he realized he would have to resort to a gentle, patient approach when the man suddenly snapped and turned away.

Half an hour had gone by in silence, and Hannibal’s eyes never left Will as the young man stubbornly stared out of the window. The doctor cleared his throat and Will kept staring at the clouds, deliberately oblivious to his opposite once again.

“Your persistent disregard could be considered quite rude,” Hannibal said.

“So could be psychoanalyzing a stranger,” Will replied without looking up.

“I wasn’t psychoanalyzing you, I was simply making observations. As were you.”

“No,” Will said. “I was making observations about your profession. You were making observations about my psyche, thus psychoanalyzing me.”

“If that is how it appeared to you, I apologize.”

“It _appears to me_ that our conversation was over, Dr. Lecter.”

“We could spend the rest of the flight in silence, of course. Or we could socialize like adults. God forbid we become friendly.”

Will made a sound that sounded a lot like a snort and raised his hand to rub his forehead.

“I doubt I’d make a good conversational partner,” he said and finally tore his gaze to Hannibal, eyes resting just below his chin.

The lack of eye contact didn’t go unnoticed by the doctor, but instead of finding it rude or making assumptions, it simply intrigued him further. Why the constant avoidance of eyes?

“If we were to actually converse, I might have to disagree.”

Will’s eyes flickered up and briefly, _very_ briefly met Hannibal’s, a slightly amused glint in them.

“You don’t give up easily, Dr. Lecter, do you?”

“Not if something raises my interest.”

“And how exactly did I raise your interest?”

Hannibal smiled slightly and leaned forward in his seat, clasping his hands together in his lap.

“I suppose we will find out.”

*

 The time passed quickly. Will was anything but a bad conversational partner. He avoided meeting Hannibal’s gaze, he didn’t _seem_ all that attentive, but the sparkle in those curious blue eyes and his words, heavy with metaphors and almost philosophic wisdom told otherwise. When he was listening, his face was cautious and concentrated, and Hannibal could practically see how the young man was questioning every word he was told, searched for different meanings, weighed the opinions to measure the mindset that developed them. Hannibal Lecter was utterly entranced. He found out the other was a professor who had recently started working with the BAU. They talked about the Minnesota Shrike; Hannibal had followed the investigation closely, of course. When he mentioned the Shrike’s arrest however, Will snapped again and drew back. Hannibal didn’t dwell on it, at least not for now, but he saw something. The moment he mentioned the arrest, which he knew had ended in the Shrike’s death, the sparkle in Will’s eyes seemed to explode. A deep, dark flash that ghosted through the blue before it disappeared completely and Will’s eyes became hooded. There were…possibilities in those eyes. In that dark flash. Potential. But there was quite the wall to break through. Luckily, Hannibal was a patient man. Patient, and hopelessly curious. Everything Will did seemed to strengthen that curiosity. Now, he had decided to stare out of the window again.

“Will, if I said something that upset you,” Hannibal began, knowing too well what was upsetting Will but quietly waiting for the deer to tap into the trap.

“No… It’s nothing. The Shrike case just… wasn’t easy on me I guess.”

“You had to kill a man. Saying it would upset anyone would be an understatement,” Hannibal said with feigned empathy.

Will swallowed hard and nodded.

“I suppose. It’s just not…right,” he muttered and suddenly Hannibal understood. Will wasn’t upset about killing a man. He was upset about not being upset about killing a man.

“Who are we to determine what is right?” he asked and crossed his legs, leaning back in his seat.

“We don’t. Our morals do. Or, at least they’re supposed to.”

“What do your morals say about killing Garrett Jacob Hobbs?”

Will bit his lower lip and shrugged.

“He was a killer. He had to be stopped.”

“That’s not what I asked. Are you really worried about morals, or are you worried about the lack of morals?”

Will froze and he glanced up, meeting Hannibal’s eyes and holding his gaze for a moment.

“Hobbs was a bad man, Dr. Lecter,” he said quietly.

“You were aware of that when you pulled the trigger. What do you think that says about you?”

Will blinked a bit confused.

“That I don’t hesitate to do what I have to, if I have to.”

“Your actions gave you power. Not only over the life of a bad man, but also the lives of innocent girls who might have fallen victim to his crimes one day. Doing bad things to bad people makes us feel good, Will. Morals can and conceivably _should_ be overcome by the wish of stopping something malevolent.”

“Stopping it by being malevolent yourself?”

“By deciding to end something that would furthermore only cause damage.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t quite succeed then,” Will muttered.

“Garrett Jacob Hobbs only proceeds to cause damage if you allow it. The power you had over him didn’t fade. But it seems the power you have over yourself does.”

“I do have the power to shield my mind, Dr. Lecter. I don’t like having people in my head,” the young man said sharply.

“Do you think I’m trying to get inside your head?”

“You’re a psychiatrist. It’s in your nature.”

“How does that make you feel?”

“I told you. I don’t like having someone in my head.”

“Am I just someone, Will?”

“What else would you be?”

“A friend.”

Will snorted softly and glanced at the clock.

“We’ve known each other for four hours.”

“A quickly evolving friendship then.”

“I don’t make friends.”

“Is that an essential feature or a developed principle?”

“It’s a simple fact.”

“Is it? We’ve been talking for four hours,” Hannibal said and smiled a bit about the slight frown that appeared on Will’s face. Apparently, the young man hadn’t considered the actual duration of their conversation. Will shrugged and dropped his gaze to the small lights on the floor, leading the way to the emergency exits.

“You’re easy to talk to,” he muttered.

 _Because you understand me,_ remained unsaid but not unheard.

A stewardess came and offered more drinks. Hannibal politely refused and leaned back in his seat, watching Will attentively as the young man tipped his head back and set a glass with cold water to his plush, pink lips. His prominent Adam’s apple bobbed slightly when he took a sip, the swallow displayed by dancing and jumping muscles on his throat. Hannibal observed the action and realized there was more than Will’s mind that was breathtakingly tempting about him. He restrained the urge to lean in and sink his teeth into the exposed skin that seemed to beam in the bright sunlight that fell through the window. The urge to leave some sort of mark on the enticing man to show the world that this creature was his to play with. That he wouldn’t accept anyone else touching either Will’s body or his mind. Not when the world clearly lacked understanding of how truly beautiful both were.

“You never told me what brings _you_ to Spain,” Will said and tore Hannibal from his thoughts.

When the doctor looked up and was greeted with the most enticing smile, he realized this was going to be a long flight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta be honest, I have little to no idea where I'm actually going with this so feel free to leave suggestions ;)


End file.
